


Phoenix Hope

by A_Being_of_Violet_Fire



Series: The Phoenix Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive!Dursleys, Crazy Twists and Turns!, Dumbledore-bashing, F/M, Gen, Good!Severus, Good!Slytherins, Graphic!Abuse, M/M, Multi, Not!Harry, evil!Dumbledore, manipulative!Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Being_of_Violet_Fire/pseuds/A_Being_of_Violet_Fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if your entire life - who you were, your very identity - was a lie? If, from the moment you were born, before you were even aware, you were masquerading a false truth? </p>
<p>What would it take to be free? To be rescued and shown the truth? </p>
<p>Maybe... just a real friend; someone willing to just *see*. A stalwart protector, and an army ready and willing to fight for you. And to bring hope... from the ashes.</p>
<p>** First Year Fic **</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safe

Harry trembled, pain-filled and afraid, as the group of first-years made their way up to the castle walls after the boat ride. Harry felt particularly miserable, since the rocking motions of the boat and the rowdy motions of the other first years exacerbated his wounds.

But Harry knew better than to complain. It was one of the rules.

The large, loud, scary Sir- _Haggis or something like that, but not 'llowed to use names-_ banged on the large, double-wide, thick wood doors. A stern, pinch faced woman that reminded Harry of Ma'am, opened the door to the half-giants summons.

"Firs' years, M'nerva." Sir informed her in his loud, rough voice. Briefly, Harry thought that he was rather stating the obvious, before snuffing that brief independent thought beneath years of forced respect and servitude.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid." Ah, these people were normal, weren't freaks, 'cause they could call each other by their names. It still came as a shock to the boy that _he_ had a name, he was pretty sure it was a mistake. But he knew better than to argue or ask questions. Again, one of the rules.

"Come children." Ma'am ordered, and Harry followed obediently with the rest. As she walked and talked at the same time, Harry made sure to listen closely, despite the distracting whisperings of awe from his fellow students. It was important to know all the rules of this new place. Punishment was bad, and Harry wanted to be good. "This is Hogwarts. This is the place where you'll eat, sleep, and go to classes for nine months out of the year. You'll shortly be sorted into your new house. Your house will become your family. Your achievements will earn you points, and any misdemeanors will be punished accordingly. The house at the end of the year with the most points will earn the house cup."

Ma'am led them into a smallish room roughly the size of Sir and Ma'am's whole house, before coming to a stop in front of another set of double-doors. Harry could vaguely hear the rumbling cacophony of hundreds of voices echoing in a large room just beyond. "Now, stay here, I'll be back to retrieve you shortly." And with that, Ma'am was gone.

Harry shuffled from foot to foot before remembering that fiddling wasn't allowed.

It was in this state of unnatural stillness that the disconcerting red-haired boy who'd been watching him since his departure from the train found him.

"'Ello! I'm Ron. Ronald Weasley. What's your name?" But from the way the boy's eyes wandered up to Harry's forehead, it seemed he already knew. That, coupled with his loud and overly-boisterous attitude, made Harry both wary and fearful of him.

In a whisper, voice hoarse from disuse, Harry replied, "Harry Potter."

And again, overly loud, so that the other students could help but hear, "Really? Harry Potter? Do you have the… y'know… the scar?"

Harry was momentarily confused. Which scar? He had so very many… and the sudden silence and probing eyes were making him very uncomfortable. But again, carrot-top's eyes wandered to his forehead, so Harry obligingly lifted his overly-long fringe to reveal the lightning-shaped scar… the only one he didn't remember getting.

"Wicked!" Ron breathed, again too loud. It seemed like he was reveling in the attention- the eyes fixed upon him and Harry- that came with a conversation with the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. Harry tried to shrink, disappear, into his overly-large robes.

Then there was another boy, a fair-skinned, blond-haired one, who easily and quietly made his way over, pale grey eyes _seeing_ Harry… not studying, or ogling, but actually _seeing_ him.

"Hello, Harry Potter, is it? I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Harry had the strongest urge to grin- which shocked him, when was the last time he smiled?- when he was strongly reminded of that 007 movie that he heard Mister watch through the grate on his cupboard: _The name's Bond. James Bond._ But, of course, Harry didn't; he just nodded and studied the boy in front of him.

His robes looked expensive and soft, which belied his physical appearance. His nose and chin were sharp, regal. His hair was a pale, soft golden hue, slicked back to give him an aristocratic look. But when Harry gathered his courage and looked the boy in the eyes- _Nonono don't do it don't break the rules!-_ they weren't cold, but rather like molten silver, warm and understanding. I prompted Harry to relax and give a shy, almost timid half-smile, which was enough to nearly cause… Draco, to grin widely back. As it was, his lips quirked up, which was probably as near the equivalent as Harry was gonna get.

Harry'd learned early on how to read people. Otherwise, how'd he know what was- or when it was- coming? Oh yes, Harry learned real fast.

"Go on Malfoy!" Carrot's loud, abrupt voice startled Harry from his brief moment with- _inward stutter… D-Drac-co-_ so bad that he jumped, flinched, and winced simultaneously. Those grey eyes flashed in concern before going cold and turning onto angry boy with a contemptuous sneer.

"No need to ask who _you_ are. Loud, obnoxious, red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robes. Must be a Weasley. Oh, and you've got some _filth_ right… there." D-Draco pointed at the boy's nose before motioning to the rest of him. The rest of the student tittered in laughter as the Carrot turned the same shade as his hair. Harry quickly moved away; when _Sir_ changed colors, Harry got hurt.

Then those silver eyes turned to Harry, and again, they were warm. "Come Harry, there's some wizards you don't want to associate with. I can help you there." And he held out his hand.

Harry hesitated for an infinite moment, emerald eyes wide in shock. It seemed that… D-Draco was offering to be his friend, and to… to _help_ him. But no one… No one ever…

But Harry realized that he would never survive on his own if everyone else was like Carrot… and he realized that… he _liked_ this golden haired archangel… his _savior._

So Harry, after an eternity that was in reality only a few seconds, and with grey eyes shining in understanding and encouragement, Harry found the courage to give another half-smile and reach out and… place his too-pale, callous, and obviously broken hand into the soft hand of Draco.

Draco half-smiled back, even as his eyes filled with pain at what he could _feel,_ but no one else would bother to see. He gently, tenderly shook Harry's hand as Harry whispered, again too hoarse, "I'd like that… D-Drac-co."

And before Carrot could blow up and… h-hurt young Harry, the doors opened and Ma'am was back.

"Come children. It's time."

And as everyone formed into a line, with Draco maneuvering Harry carefully behind him, and keeping two burly, stocky boys behind- _Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle,_ Draco whispered. _Friends-_ they followed Ma'am into an enormous hall.

Voices mumbled and fluctuated around them, causing a faint echo that rang off the wide, sparkling ceiling above them. There was a full moon- which warmed Harry from the inside and caused him to half-smile again; _it felt so good… so real-_ and stars and just a brief smattering of clouds that glowed in the iridescent moonlight. All this was mirrored on the wide expanse above him- _It's enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History-_ Harry heard from some Miss behind him.

Everyone came to a haphazard stop before an oak stool and a worn, tattered, ancient-looking hat. The line was abandoned and everyone crammed into one massive group, trying to all see and study the odd cap. But still, Harry could feel eyes upon him. That, coupled with the press of bodies all around him, was causing Harry to hyperventilate.

Draco noticed this, as did Vincent and Gregory, and they pushed and nudged people til Goyle and Crabbe were keeping a nice, comfortable bubble around Harry and Draco, who was gently helping Harry recover and breath.

It took the length of the hat's song for Harry to calm down, so Draco explained in a soft whisper what they had to do- just try on the hat, and it would tell you which house you belonged in.

" _Don't worry Harry,"_ Draco whispered. " _You'll stay with me, I just know it. Everything will be okay. I'll still be your friend, no matter what."_

And before Harry could recover from that- _a friend…?- "_ MALFOY, DRACO" was called, and Draco was giving him a reassuring smile before he sauntered to the stool and perched upon it with all the grace and elegance of a prince.

Harry looked around as Ma'am set the hat on Draco's head, where it sat for a bit- _where was Gregory and Vincent?-_ before he saw them sitting at a table with a green and black snake banner above it. Huh, that must be Slytha- Slinar- …

"SLYTHERIN!"

That's it! Draco gave Harry another small smile and a wink before he strolled over to his table to polite- the other three tables- and sincere, raucous- Slytherin- applause.

Harry shifted nervously; he just couldn't help it, as he watched as the next few children were sorted. What if he _didn't_ end up with Draco? What if he wasn't picked at all? What if they realized what a freak Boy was and that he _didn't_ deserve a name and he _didn't_ deserve _friends,_ and then sent him back to Sir and Ma'am? And just as Harry was realizing just how horrible and terrible and awful that would be…

"POTTER, HARRY!"

And as the hall exploded in whispers and exclamations of surprise and shock, and Harry slowly and unsurely made his way to the stool and the all-knowing, fate-deciding hat, Harry searched out desperately for the eyes of his first friend.

And the last thing that Harry saw way the warm, silver eyes of Draco as he gave him a smile and a thumbs-up before the hat fell on his head and slipped over his eyes, turning the world dark.

Harry trembled and very nearly leaped off the stool in shock as the hat began _speaking_. In his _head._

_ ::Ah yes… Harry Potter. I've heard all about you, and… Oh! Oh dear boy, I haven't… I'd never have thought… Oh, I'm so sorry. I can't… I can't tell you much but… everything, your whole life's a lie. You're not who they say you are… you're a lost child. Both to yourself, and to a broken couple. Remember that… and I hope that you can recover some of your lost childhood here, though with Dumbledick- oop! Pardon my French- here, that might not be a possibility. But maybe… just perhaps… someone might give you a fighting chance. _

_ Let's see… You have a vast well of possible loyalty, all you need are some to be loyal to. But not Hufflepuff, no they're not quite right for you. Smothering, I'd say. _

_ And lessee… A sharp mind, eager and willing to learn, almost  _ desperate _… though I ache to see what caused such. But not Ravenclaw, too analytical, not quite enough heart._

_ Hmmmm… you're brave- you'd have to have been to survive thus far- but you're not reckless, no far from it, in fact. Gryffindor would push expectations upon your shoulders that would eventually crush you, completely and utterly. Not to mention, Gryffindor's are thicker and more oblivious to the obvious than your average rock, and none so much as the head of house. _

_ So yes, there seems to be really only one choice. Slytherin, despite popular opinion, is fiercely loyal to their own, and masters at the art of observing their surroundings and adapting accordingly. Two skills of which you're already much adept at, am I correct? They'll help heal you, and give you your confidence. I'd say they'd give your confidence  _ back, _but you've never had it in the first place.::_ A deep, mournful sigh.

_ ::But, I'll still give you a choice. Where do  _ you _want to be young one?::_

Harry was shocked. He had… a choice? But… there'd never, he'd never… No one'd… Harry took a deep breath.

' _I… I wanna be with D-Draco a-an' G-Gregory an-n' V-Vin-Vincen-nt. I j-jus' wanna b-be s-safe.'_

_ ::Very well, little one. Haha, I was going to just announce that Mr. Malfoy was Slytherin but he had a request for me first. He almost begged- though when I pointed this out, he firmly denied it. 'Malfoy's don't  _ beg.' _\- for me to place you with him in Slytherin. It seems as though you've already got an ally. And you'll receive many, many more in…::_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Harry walked in a daze to the Slytherin table. He didn't notice the total and complete, shocked silence that lasted for almost four seconds- a record!- before it broke into loud and stunned whispers and a brief scattered applause.

Harry only had eyes for Draco- _his first, real friend-_ and his wide, beaming smile; and Vincent and Gregory's loud _whoo-hoo_ 's and large fists punching the air. And, like the sun peeking from behind the clouds after a horrible, ten-year storm, Harry smiled a real, genuine smile, emerald eyes sparkling in hope. He didn't notice the hitched breaths around him when his fellow housemates caught sight of his broken and few missing teeth as he gently perched on the bench beside Draco, wincing only a little.

And as the sorting finally started back up again, Ma'am's voice stuttering in her lingering shock, all Harry could think was…

' _I'm safe.'_


	2. Allies

Severus was intrigued when his godson walked into the great hall, him and his friends shielding a young, small, frail-looking youth between them.

Severus was resentful when the emerald-eyed boy was identified as the Potter spawn, then confused when he caught sight of Draco smiling in encouragement and giving the brat a thumbs-up.

However, Severus was actually _shocked_ when the boy was sorted into _Slytherin,_ his- Death Eater, greasy vampire, dungeon bat, and mortal enemy of the late Potter- house.

And he very nearly fell off his chair when his students accepted the whelp so quickly, easily, welcoming him and shielding him from the stares and whispers. That, coupled with Goyle, Crabbe, and Malfoy's almost _un-Slytherin_ behavior was enough to almost crack his indifferent façade. Although that might have been Minerva's thinly veiled shock and disappointment.

Well, of course she would be disappointed. Was it now widely known, expected, that the Boy-Who-Lived would be sorted into Gryffindor, his parent's house, house of heroes? How would the world react when they found out that their precious savior was now housed in Slytherin, whom _everyone knew_ contained all the potential, current, and soon-to-be Death Eaters?

This could go one of two ways. Either his house would be redeemed, and the prejudices would vanish in light of the idea that the great Harry Potter couldn't be sorted in a house that was _all_ evil; or the wizarding world would- like the fickle, bigoted idiots they all were- abandon, ostracize, and persecute the boy upon his sorting. No matter that he was only eleven, no matter that he was innocent. Which would mean, and here Severus couldn't help but sigh, that he'd need allies- a house, and his head of house- behind him. If Slytherin's were good at anything, it was sticking up for eachother. For they'd learned early on, that if they didn't, no one else would.

It seemed like Potter couldn't help but turn his life on its ear, even from beyond the grave. He silently cursed him even as the sorting ended and food filled the tables.

As he ate almost mechanically, Severus took this moment to observe his Slytherins, looking for the same signs as he did every year. And yet, even so, he couldn't tear his eyes from the strange and still as of yet unfamiliar sight of the Potter boy sitting between Draco and Goyle, with Crabbe across from him, and Zambini and Nott across from Potter and Draco. It was like they were forming a protective shield around the boy, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

And he noticed, how the boy really didn't speak, but smiled softly and nodded.

He wondered when, while everyone else was digging in with all the enthusiasm of children under the age of twenty-five, the boy didn't touch hardly anything. Just a piece of toast and some pumpkin juice. And the look on the boy's face- going from wary, as if he wouldn't be allowed to eat; to delighted, as if, not only had he never tasted anything quite like pumpkin juice, but he'd never tasted even _juice_ before- caused an uneasy, almost nauseous feeling in the base of his chest.

But surely not, he had to be mistaken. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the wizarding world, supposed Golden Boy, Lily's child…

But then he watched as the boy shifted and slightly winced, fingers clenching on the edge of the table in a moment of weakness. And then, so fast that, if he weren't watching the boy so closely he would have missed it, there was a flicker, a glitch, and suddenly he realized, _knew_ , that the brat- _child-_ was wearing a glamor, most likely a full-bodied one, and he very nearly crushed his fork in half while meanwhile his goblet formed a jagged crack from rim to neck.

It was this moment, when his eyes were smoldering in fury and face twisted into a horrible scowl, that the boy chose to look up, up to the head table, up into his livid black eyes. And he very nearly cursed himself when the brat flinched, lowering his eyes in fear and shame, before turning to Draco and tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

But he only scowled when Draco glared up at him in admonishment and anger, for scaring his new friend. And he saw that, yes, Potter was friends with his godson, and knew that, even more so than before, he'd have to be careful. Because what a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets.

He turned away from those accusing grey eyes to look down the head table, over Minerva's ostentatious hat, to the wizened form of the headmaster.

He wondered, now, how what he'd observed could have happened. Didn't the headmaster ever check up on the boy? He must have, he was his savior, his 'Gryffindor Golden Boy'. So surely…

But no, he knew now, that a boy who'd grown up as Potter senior had, would not follow the old wizard blindly. Would be too wild, too uncontrollable, for the headmaster to mold as he so wished.

But, perhaps, a boy, raised by muggles, abused, clueless, rescued in a shower of sparks and wonder… well, most certainly then, yes. But really, would Dumbledore really, truly do that? Make the same choices that had created Voldemort, created _him?_

And when Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindenwald, famous, all-powerful leader of the light and Order of the Pheonix, turned his ice cold and shrewd blue eyes- hidden behind half-moon glasses, twinkling with disguised maliciousness- and gazed straight into the dark man's eyes, Severus knew he had his answer.

Yes, most certainly yes.

Severus quickly turned his eyes away, knowing that the man was an occlumens; and, even while he himself was as well, that the headmaster could still read his surface thoughts, and it was best to not meet those falsely grandfatherly eyes.

But, even as he continued eating with his mutilated fork, he knew that, surely, the headmaster had not counted- or even suspected, really- that the boy would be sorted into Slytherin. And maybe, just maybe, that little difference, oversight, might be enough to change the old man's plans. And perhaps, give the boy, _Lily's son,_ a fighting chance.

And, without the boy even knowing, he'd gained an- albeit grudgingly- ally. He'd do it, he'd fight for the boy. Even if, for only the fact that he was Lily's son.

' _I promise you this Lily. I so swear it.'_


	3. Revelations

Finally, the meal was finished, and, after Draco gently nudged the physically exhausted Harry from his light doze, the Slytherins lined up by year with a seventh year at the beginning of each column. Nearly unnoticeably, the snakes maneuvered their littlest housemate to the front of their line, making sure there was an older, powerful student at his front, and a group of loyal, protective first years behind.

Severus caught the eye of Justin Harkness- the seventh year in charge of the firsties- and gave him an imperceptable approving nod. Justin merely inclined his head in understanding before making his way to the Slytherin dungeons, followed by the second years, then the third, and so on.

Thankfully they made it without any complications or interruptions, and they found themselves standing before a large black marble door with emerald swirls shot through it mesmerizingly not fifteen minutes later.

Justin looked over the first years' young, excited, and tired faces; knowing, from previous experience, that Professor Snape was also observing unseen from an alcove to the right of the door.

This was part of every snake's introduction, "What would I get if I added powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Many of the kids' faces were blank, but Draco and, surprisingly, Harry, raised their hands. Granted, Harry's was significantly more timid than Draco's, and he almost immediately lowered his hand again once he saw that Draco wanted to answer.

Justin raised his eyebrow, as did Severus. Neither of them had expected the small, silent boy to actually answer, speak, much less know the information.

Justin, curious, decided to explore this phenomenon, "Very well. It seems like almost none of you bothered to read your potions books before arriving. Mr. Potter?" Justin indicated the black-haired boy to answer. Draco whirled around, surprised. He was slightly in front of Harry and hadn't seen his hand, since the line had been abandoned and there was now just a small crowd in front of the entrance.

Harry was frozen, shocked and scared. No one had ever called on him before… and what would Draco do if he answered correctly? Would he get mad at him? Would he… hurt him?

But Harry was even more afraid of the tall, strong boy in authority, so he stepped forward slightly. Even so, when he threw a small apologetic glance at the blond boy, he was still relieved beyond measure to only see encouragement and understanding there.

"D-Draught o-of Li-li-liv-" Harry's small, hoarse voice stuttered, before he paused and took a deep breath, keeping his viridian gaze fixed on the stone floor. "D-Draught of Li-Living D-Death." Finally succeeding, Harry let out a small breath in relief, and Draco gently touched his hand in support.

Justin gave a small encouraging smile. "Mr. Potter?" He waited until the boy had slowly looked back up to him. "Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Well done."

Harry, surprised and pleased, gave a large, blinding smile. Justin and Severus' breath hitched at the sight of the broken and missing teeth, and the cut up, shredded gums. Neither had seen at the feast, and while Severus could turn away and bury his head in his hands in privacy, Justin had to take a moment to school his features and regain his composure. By that time, the smile had disappeared.

Justin continued, voice trembling unnoticeably. "How about a bezoar? What is it used for, and where might I find one?"

This time, Draco didn't raise his hand. He, instead, whispered to Harry, "Do you know this question as well Harry?"

Timid once again, Harry looked into Draco's face for a moment before barely nodding. The young Malfoy smiled in encouragement before stepping to the side, allowing his new friend to answer.

Again, Harry stuttered over the answer, voice nearly inaudible. "It c-cures m-most poi-poisons. A-and they c-come f-from a g-goat's st-st-sto-stom-" Harry stopped, and looked like he was close to crying in frustration at not being able to speak.

"Shhh, it's okay Harry. Just take a deep breath and let it out. Don't push it." Draco whispered softly, gently petting Harry's dirty, tangled hair, ignoring the automatic flinch.

Harry followed Draco's advice, and finally was able to finish. "G-goat's st-stomach."

At this point, Severus stepped out of the shadows, startling his first years (which was the point). "Once again, correct Mr. Potter. Another five points to Slytherin."

Again, they were treated to another startled smile and a shocked, almost confused expression. Almost as if he wasn't used to praise, and didn't know what to do with it once he'd received it.

"You had best not embarrass me or your house like this in front of the other houses. Lack of knowledge is a weakness, and weakness is not something Slytherins can afford to reveal." This Severus directed to the rest of the first years, piercing them each with his dark, obsidian gaze. "Last question, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry, slightly more bolstered, once again raised his hand, smiling slightly under his new friend's proud grin. Severus gave the scrawny, obviously weak boy an appraising look, and a very slight encouraging quirk of his lips.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Th-they're the s-same… the s-same th-thing. Al-also c-called ac-ac-acon-acon-aconite!" Harry finally forced it out, then blushed for his momentary exclamation. Severus just raised his eyebrow and allowed his eyes to soften upon the surprising Slytherin.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. Very well done. Ten points to Slytherin." Severus praised, trying not to get caught up in those familiar joyful eyes, now masked and fogged in broken agony.

He quickly turned to the rest of the first years. "Just because we're Slytherins doesn't mean that we aren't intelligent, or brave, or loyal. Unlike Ravenclaws, we can use our knowledge in real life situations, and take our intelligence a step further, and utilize cleverness. Like Gryffindors," A derisive sneer, "we can be brave and courageous, but we don't rush headlong into dangerous situations recklessly. We think through all the facts and contingencies, and go in fully prepared. And, while we can be just as loyal as Hufflepuffs, we don't possess erratic temperaments, and aren't ruled by our feelings.

"We are unpredictable, powerful, unmatchable. We possess the best of all the houses, but since others don't see it, don't understand it, they ostracize us and ridicule us. And _this_ is where your loyalty will come into play the most. Snakes always, _always,_ stick up for each other, under all circumstances."

Severus turned to the marble door and called, loud enough for his snakes to hear, _aconite,_ and the door opened. Severus caught a glimpse of one of Potter's broken grins before he lead his students into the Slytherin common room.

"This," He made a wide sweeping motion to indicate the vast, cavernous room, "is where any and all inhouse disputes _stay._ Out there," He pointed out to the now-closing door, "we are united. If you give them even a _hint_ of a crack in our defenses, our walls, and we will be destroyed. Am I understood?"

He sent his dark, piercing gaze across his eager-faced first years, nearly smirking as they all nodded fervently.

"Be prepared, not only will you experience hostility and coldness from the students, but even some of your teachers take to playing favorites. And it is very rarely that Slytherin falls under that category. So, to even things out, I've integrated the system of interhouse points. Not only myself, but the prefects also are able to award these points to you, called _cuspis'._ This is latin for 'point'. Cuspis' can be redeemed for galleons, special privileges, extended curfews, and even hall passes."

He pointed to about two hundred or so two-foot tall, cylindrical glass tubes that were placed around the circumference of the room. Each had a personalized nameplate beneath, indicating the student's name.

Severus motioned to the one marked 'Harry Potter' and intoned, "Three Cuspis' to Harry Potter, for reading the material and answering in a competent manner."

To the Slytherin's amazement, three glowing silver beads appeared and floated in the cylinder. Severus was momentarily concerned that Potter's face would split with the wide grin he was sporting.

Severus turned back to his first years and took a deep breath. Now, for the hard part. He nodded to his prefects stationed in the back, and they nodded before slipping away, returning with the rest of the Slytherin students, who were quiet and solemn, as they knew what was coming.

Severus met his confused first year's gazes seriously. "As I mentioned before, weaknesses will be sniffed out and exploited if we reveal even a _hint_ of such vulnerabilities. But, in order to hide and protect our weaknesses, we must know what they are. This is essential to being one, whole unit. We will start with the seventh years, and work our way down. But first, to avoid any risk of betrayal, everyone will swear an Unbreakable Oath. Not too powerful or intricate, only to promise to never betray your housemates confidences. All you need to do it hold your wand forwards, and I'll speak the Oath. Afterwards, you all say 'I so swear it'. Do you understand?"

The first years- and everyone else- held up their wands and waited for their Head of House to chant the Oath. Severus watched with concerned eyes as Harry- who seemed to understand what was _really_ being demanded- paled drastically. But, when he could find no way out, Harry pulled out his wand like everyone else; and Severus watched with proud eyes as his godson rested an encouraging hand on his friend's outstretched arm.

Severus nodded in pride. "Alright, listen closely. _Swear to uphold your housemates' secrets and trust, to never use their weaknesses against them, and to never betray confidences. Do you so swear it?"_

And, as one, the students intoned, "I so swear it."Harry, who stuttered even worse than before, was a step behind the rest, but the Oath caught and held, and a golden chain made of light appeared and shot through all the students, connecting them all and binding them together. Severus nodded and lowered his wand, and the rest of the Slytherins followed suit.

"Now, we may continue. Who would like to start from Seventh Year?"

Justin Harkness took the initiative, and stepped forwards. He took a deep breath. "I don't want to follow the Dark Lord, but my mother insists on training me to become a mini-Death Eater, and has taken it upon herself to train me in detail. With pensieve memories of torture and deaths, and crucio-ing me whenever I displease her. When my father tried to protect me and get me out, she bound me and made me watch as she tortured him into insanity, then killed him. I was ten at the time." He stepped back and Severus nodded at him, pride shining in his obsidian eyes.

"Well done Mr. Harkness. Next." And in this fashion, it continued.

One by one the students came forward, slowly but surely making it to the first years. There were many such tales, of torture, confusion, pain, abandonment. Some had eating disorders, some were dyslexic, and some were orphans.

Finally, it was time for the fledgling Slytherins. By this point, Harry was pasty white and a fine sheen of sweat clung to his pallid skin. Severus made sure to keep a close eye on him, to make sure that he didn't go into a panic attack.

Crabbe and Goyle went up, speaking about having to deal with people assuming that they were idiots because of their ape-like fathers, and deciding to play to that stereotype to keep attention off themselves. Pansy and Millicent both suffered from bulimia, and Theodore Nott was victim to horrific nightmares of his parent's Death Eater activities; of blood and gore and pain.

Draco talked about how his father was a spy for the light, but that he feared his mother, who was cruel and vicious and unloving. He spoke about seeking his mother's approval, before being hit witha cutting curse for annoying her; the experience left a long scar up his leg- he was only five at the time.

Finally, only Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini were left. Harry was trembling almost violently by this point; and, strangely enough, Zabini was a peculiar shade of green, like he was going to be sick.

Severus knew he'd have to tread _very_ carefully now.

Very softly, Severus motioned Harry forward. "Mr. Potter? If you please."

Harry was shaking his head frantically, tears shimmering in those shattered green orbs and breath hitching alarmingly. "P-please d-don't… p-please d-don't m-make m-me! C-can't tell, c-can't t-tell! He'll kill m-me! He'll k-kill m-m-me."

Severus moved towards the terrified youth, and, scooping him up in his arms and ignoring the startled and pained cry, he conjured a chair and sat, seating the near-sobbing boy in his lap. He'd started to run calming and soothing circles and the boy's back, but when he flinched and softly cried out again, Severus settled for carding his long, potion-stained fingers through Harry's ratted, filthy locks.

"Hush little one. Remember that Oath we all took, that promise? No one will tell about what you reveal. 'He' will never find out you told. And we'll protect you little one, we promise."

Harry sobbed nearly silent cries for about five more minutes, before seeming to reach a decision. In a hitching, broken voice, Harry spoke, "M-my n-name's n-not l-lit-little o-one. O-or H-Har-Harry. M-my n-name is b-b-boy o-or f-f-fr-fr-" A shuddering sob, "f-fr-freak. S-Sir a-and M-Ma'am s-say f-freaks d-don't des-serve n-names."

This time, it was Severus' turn for his breath to hitch. "Wh-what," He cleared his throat. "What else to they say about… about _freaks?_ "

This time, Harry voice was smooth, unstuttering, and monotonous; almost dead. Severus and the students flinched and could only listen in shock and dawning horror.

"Freaks don't get love. You can't love a freak, you only put up with them. Freaks don't deserve clothes. Freaks don't deserve food. Freaks don't deserve a bedroom. You can't touch a freak. You can't let a freak on the furniture. Freaks are dirty, and filthy, and contaminated. Freaks are wrong, and freakish, and can't be good, because they don't know how."

"A-and, and what… what does it take to be good?" Severus' voice was hoarse and pained, and many of his students had tears in their eyes.

Harry's answer chilled them all to the bone. "Don't talk, don't make messes, don't exist. Do all the chores, cook all the meals, do Dudley's homework. Don't cry, don't scream, don't get blood on the clean floor."

"Sounds like you weren't allowed to be good, young one." Severus whispered, horrified.

That seemed to break Harry from the horrible cage of his memories, his brainwashing. He looked up at the dark man with tearful, pleading, desperately hopeful viridian eyes. "B-but m-may-maybe i-if I t-try r-real-really h-hard?" It ended up coming out as more of a question, his voice beseeching.

Severus had to squeeze his eyes shut to control his grief and pain at the broken memory of his best friend's son. After his moment, he tried to regain control of his wayward emotions, choosing to address something the small child had mentioned.

"You mentioned bleeding, and I know for a fact that you're injured. Will you let me examine you?"

Harry whimpered and shut his eyes tightly; but remained unmoving as the professor slowly removed his robe from his shoulders. Several older students cursed silently under their breath when the torn, over-large, blood-stained pants and shirt were exposed. Severus took a deep breath and once again carded his fingers through Harry's untamed tresses, resting his forehead on Severus' chest. Then, he waved his wand, and Harry was left in the professor's lap in nothing but a pair of filthy, equally bloodied underwear.

But Severus was only met with unblemished, pale, smooth skin. No signs of imperfections or wounds. "W-what?"

"C-can't see, n-no o-one c-can s-s-see…" Harry mumbled brokenly. "D-don't k-kn-know wh-why."

Draco stepped forwards, face pale in light of his little snake's revelations. "Severus, I think that he's wearing a full-body glamor. When I shook his hand earlier, I could feel his broken fingers, but could see no evidence of corresponding injuries."

Severus waved his wand over the trembling boy, and raised his eyebrow. This glamor was powerful, intricate, and at least ten years old. Severus knew only one person could have done it, and the knowledge chilled him to the bone.

Channeling his power and will into the spell, he cried out, " _FINITE INCANTATUM!"_ Hushing Harry when he cried out in shock from the raised voice, and then pain as a decade's worth of glamors fell away from his skin.

All the students cried out in shock, and several ran to the loo to empty the contents of their stomachs. Severus, himself, dearly wished to do the same. As it was, he had to swallow several times to keep down the bile that wanted to come up at the sight of the child's emaciated body.

Scars, old and new, healed and bloody, overlaid bruises of colors ranging from purple to yellow to a sickly black. Some of the wounds were pulsing with viscous green infection. But what was worse, by far, were the words carved into the now sobbing boy's back. _FREAK_ was slashed across his shoulders, _WORTHLESS_ and _BURDEN_ down his arms, and- Severus had to close his eyes tightly against the tears that welled up there- and _WHORE_ was branded onto his lower back.

Suddenly the blood on his underwear took on a totally different, horrific meaning.

Severus leaned the boy back from his chest to examine his front, and what he found there wasn't any less horrific. True, there was no words carved there, but the cross branded was almost as bad, though you could hardly see it for the multitude of scars and bruises and wounds covering every inch of skin. Severus could count every rib, and Harry's stomach was almost inverted bad enough to see his spine from the front.

He gently held the child's hands, which were broken, bloody, and several fingers were missing their nails.

However, it was the sight of Harry's face that caused Severus to make his first noise since the _Finite-_ a gasp of shock.

It wasn't the scar that stretched from the corner of his left eye to his ear that caused the reaction, nor the continuous tears that ran down the too-pale face.

Harry's face was pointier, not the same smooth Potter features that Severus remembered all too well. His eyes, although green, weren't the glimmering emerald that Lily's were. They were darker, almost forest green, and mesmerizing. There was also a dark grey ring that circled the pupil, holding and captivating your gaze. Their power was not diminished in any way by the tears swimming in their depths.

His hair was no longer the untamable, insufferable Potter hair; but curly, chin-length, and a soft chocolate-brown; although still ratted and dirty. And Severus started and gasped again when it, shockingly, morphed and turned into spiky, brilliant turquoise hair, and then back again.

One thing was for certain, this was _not_ the son of James and Lily Potter.

Severus promised himself to brew a heritage potion later, and gently picked up the pain-wracked, sobbing child; uncaring for the blood now staining his robes. He motioned for Blaise to follow him, and made his way to an examination room in the back of the commons, with a softly crying Theodore and Draco and fierce, protective Vincent and Gregory following behind. Millicent and Pansy waited by the door, and his prefects, Justin Harkness and Elizabeth McLean, began gathering gauze, peroxide, and healing, sleeping, and skelegro potions.

As he waved his wand to cast a health history spell, and page after page after page of injuries and injustices materialized in front of him; and as Harry curled into himself, staining the white sheets red, and started crying for his mother, his father, the safety of his cupboard; Severus finally broke, and a lone, cold tear ran down his anguished face.


	4. Preparations

Severus sighed, for what felt like the thousandth time that evening, as he watched over the two unconscious forms on the beds.

Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini.

Well, a boy whom people _thought_ was Harry Potter – and someone powerful had gone through a lot of trouble to enforce that belief – and a boy that wouldn't be a Zabini much longer, not if Severus had anything to say about it. And he did. A lot, as a matter of fact.

It was now almost five o'clock in the morning, if his shaky _Tempus_ was to be believed. But, really, Severus didn't have much faith in himself anymore – not his beliefs, not his instincts, and not even his magic.

It was his beliefs and stubbornness that had led him to never contact his best friend's son (or the one whom he _thought_ was his best friend's son) and abandon him to a live of misery and torture. It wash is instincts that had never alerted him to a sense of wrongness whenever he glimpsed the odd twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes, when he spoke about his 'Savior' and his 'Destiny'.

And it was his magic that had failed him – and the two boys in front of him – the most. Because of the still-binding nature of the Oath, every member of Slytherin House had been forced to watch as their Head had worked frantically to save the tiny metamorphmagus.

It was _his_ magic, that he once had believed to be powerful and untouchable, that had been unable to heal all the marks on the emaciated child. Even still, Harry had opened wounds and welts that would have to heal naturally. Because Harry had unconsciously used his metamorphmagus ability underneath the glamour, the wounds had been healing at an alarmingly slow rate. Some of the wheals and scars were actually years old, having never been allowed to heal under the layers and layers of abuse and torture heaped upon him without rest. And, despite his best efforts, they resisted most of his magic.

And Severus had cursed himself for a fool when the Oath had reminded him that they had yet another child to examine. And the unwilling audience had been witness to the horrible truth that lay behind the Zabini Manor walls.

About how Mrs. Zabini had never wanted to marry her first husband, and so, as soon as the Marriage Contract had been fulfilled upon the birth of the Heir – Blaise – she had calmly and without remorse arranged his death.

But, as Blaise grew up, he reminded her more and more of her hated first husband; and of the fact that she could never be truly free, not with a child to raise. So she treated Blaise with contempt, leaving him in the care of House Elves growing up and never calling him by his name – only referring to him as 'The Heir' or, if she was feeling charitable, 'The Zabini Boy'.

And she married young and handsome men right and left, killing them when they got too overbearing or controlling – or even when she just got bored. And Blaise was often witness to these murders, a couple times almost getting caught in the cross-fire.

But her latest husband was worse than all the rest. Everyone knew that she killed her husbands, but none could prove it; and there had been speculation about why this one seemed to survive longer than the others – _over four years!_

Well, the answer was all too horribly, glaringly clear.

The man – Blaise only knew of him as _Master Sir –_ had a certain… _predilection_ for little boys. And, apparently, when Mrs. Zabini had stumbled across her newest husband in the act; she had found it interesting and intriguing.

And thus, Blaise suffered alone behind impenetrable stone walls; knowing that he existed purely for his mother's entertainment and her husband's pleasure. And what did Mrs. Zabini care if he sobbed and pleaded and begged for her help, her love.

After all, she was never bored.

And, after Severus had already expended all of his magic into the fruitless task of trying to heal Harry, he had no power to assist and heal his Italian Slytherin's hand-shaped bruises and still-bleeding passage. He had been forced to rely entirely upon his prefects, giving them verbal instructions that only served to amplify the horror and shame of the child; rather than the peace and calm that silence would have provided.

Severus looked down upon the Diagnostic Parchment still held tightly in his hand. It seemed like Blaise's internal scars were only matched by Harry's external. But where are Blaise had a chance of healing without outward evidence, Harry was not so lucky.

Beyond from the injuries that he'd observed upon the initial unveiling, were others even more horrifying and sickening. Nearly every one of his ribs had been broken and healed wrong, and if his recently-broken fingers had been allowed to set wrong _again_ , there would have been nothing they could have done to save his hands. As it was, another week and they would have been too late.

Beyond that his right kneecap had been shattered when he was six, after which his magic tried to mend and heal it. Unfortunately the strain of the glamour and the ever-shifting changes in his body due to his morphmagus abilities had made it heal out of proportion. Now he had a too-large kneecap for his stick-thin legs and a permanent limp. He would have to have a cane for the rest of his life.

And it only got worse.

Not only had the suspected rape been confirmed upon the removal of the tattered underwear and the rush of blood from re-opened scabs; but they had discovered something that still brought tears to Severus' eyes and had caused every pure- and half-blood in the room who knew of the significance to weep and wail in horror and anguish.

Harry's testicles had both been ruptured. Thankfully Severus had been able to heal him enough that he could, in the future, experience regular male pleasures; but there had been nothing he could do to save the future of House Potter – or whomever house he truly belonged to, if any.

Harry, barring blood adoption, could have no children. And to the wizarding world, there was no greater travesty.

Severus, through sheer force of will, shoved all of his emotions and threatening tears behind his Occlumency walls. He would have time enough to break down later. For now, he had business to take care of.

He cast his eye around the enlarged chamber, taking in the sight of his entire House curled up on blankets and pillows on the floor, the strongest nearer to the door while the youngest and weakest were against the far wall, as though to subconsciously protect them.

Moving silently and carefully Severus picked his way across the room until he reached his male Prefect, Justin Harkness. The boy was sleeping in what _had_ to be an uncomfortable position, half-sitting half-laying upon a chair with a first year (Pansy Parkingson) and a second year (Wilhelm Farthing) curled up in his lap.

Gently shaking Justin's shoulder and whispering his name, Severus was relieved that the young man woke gently, rather than violently as he was oft to do, given his past.

"I must go and speak to the Headmaster regarding what I have discovered. Only the abuse, not the rest. I have a feeling my life would be forfeit if he were to find out that I knew. I would keep everything secret, but how I proceed will greatly depend upon the old coot's reactions. While I'm gone, you know your duty." Namely, watching over and protecting the Slytherins. Severus knew that, not only Justin extremely powerful and protective, but he had a very firm sense of responsibility and duty. It was the main reason that he'd chosen him to be his Prefect; and one of the reasons that he actually trusted him.

And, as many will tell you, the trust of a Slytherin is a rare, hard to obtain, easy to lose jewel. And once you have it, you'd best hold on to it with both hands; for it could very well save your life.

Seeing his Prefect's confirmatory nod, Severus turned and slipped back into the main Common Room. Using a secret passageway behind a tapestry, Severus made his way to his personal quarters, knowing that he needed to grab one important thing before he went for his meeting with the Headmaster.

He pulled one of the many potions books from his shelves and opened it, revealing yet another tome filled with herb and ingredient preparation. But, with a wave of his wand and a Old Latin revealing spell, a secret compartment – that was really a small pocket in space – was revealed. In it was an old amulet with a rune of amethyst upon the front.

Severus quickly slipped it over his neck before returning the book to normal and replacing it in it's proper place on his shelf. He looked down upon the Amulet and cast a regular notice-me-not spell as well as a disillusionment charm. Then he cast an Old Latin spell _To Hide_ , before tapping the purple rune in the middle. With a small flash it vanished, became invisible as well as untraceable. Severus tucked it under his shirt and straightened his robes.

Storing his wand securely in his wand-holster and fortifying his Occlumency barriers impenetrably; Severus felt that he was ready to face the Headmaster.

He had no idea how wrong he was to be, nor what world-changing events he would set in place by his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, I finally updated! This is just the first part of the chapter, I'll be continuing the talk with the Headmaster, and Severus and Slytherin's House upcoming reactions, soon. Hopefully if not before, then during this weekend. Thank you for your unending patience, and look out for the next update!
> 
> The game is afoot! Ooop… sorry, wrong fiction… xD


	5. The Murder of Severus Snape

"Blood Pops." Severus growled at the gargoyle, hating Dumbledore's preference for candy-themed passwords more in this moment than he ever had in the past; given the amount of _blood_ that he'd dealt with during the past ten hours.

When the stone guardian moved the side, Severus smoothed out his features into his regular impassive mask. He subtly flicked his wand at his amulet, which heated briefly before cooling against his skin.

 

**~~*~***~*~~** 

 

A minute later Severus was at the top of the stairs, and knocking on the ash-wood door.

"Come in, Severus." The Potions Master allowed himself a brief moment to roll his eyes. Did he really think that such juvenile tactics would work on him? He was not one of his students any longer, and had figured out the monitoring and identification spell placed upon the door back in his fourth year.

Nevertheless, Severus allowed the old coot his vices, and opened the door silently.

"Ah, good morning my boy. Please, sit down. Lemon drop? Tea?" The Headmaster waved his wand and conjured a squishy red beanbag chair, before summoning a tea service complete with a silver dish of the old goat's favorite sweet.

"No thank you Headmaster, I've already enjoyed tea this morning with my Prefects. Not to mention, you know that I have an adverse reaction to lemon." Not really, but he'd use any excuse he could get to never ingest the nasty fruit or its correlating delicacies. He quickly transfigured the horrid beanbag into a straight-backed black chair before sitting down stiffly.

"Yes yes, of course. Do forgive an old man; I fear that my memory is not quite what it used to be." But Severus could tell, by the calculating glint in the old wizard's eyes, that this was as much a lie as Severus' allergy to lemons.

Severus, abruptly feeling tired of their diversionary tactics and still weak from his magical drain and lack of sleep the previous night; quickly cut to the chase. Sometimes, the situation called for bluntness; and this was one of those times.

"Dumbledore, I believe that you know why I am here." His sharp eyes caught the slight hesitation of surprise as the Headmaster poured his tea, and reveled in the small victory.

However, he could not have predicted what was to happen next… not in a million years.

"Ah yes. You see, Severus, I've known about your little… _tradition_ with your snakes for quite sometime. I've never seen any harm in it, as it only binds them together while keeping everyone else out. Slytherins against the world… or maybe the world against the Slytherins? And that works perfectly towards my own ends.

"As such, I knew from the very moment that young Harry was sorted into your House, that my little ruse would be discovered. How bad was it, I wonder? I know the suppression tactics of his relatives _had_ to have been rather severe, for a glamour cast by myself to actually _flicker._

"As I'm sure you've discovered, Severus," before he could even blink (although Severus wasn't sure he _could_ blink anymore, so shocked and horrified was he) he found himself petrified and bound to his chair; his wand removed from his sleeve, "that boy is not Harry Potter.

"You see, I made a rather unfortunate error, that night ten years ago. Little Harry – the _true_ Harry – had Wizard's Flu that fateful evening. That, combined with the biting cold from being left on a doorstep on the first of November, and the residual dark magic of the Killing Curse, poisoned his blood; until he died barely a week after being left there.

"It was quite a tragedy. After all, what would happen now, without the Savior to stop Voldemort when he returned? Petunia – you remember her, don't you Severus? – was quite incensed with me when I mentioned it. She was heartbroken over the death of her beloved nephew, you see, and promptly attempted to hit me over the head with a frying pan of all things. I Apparated out of there, desperately trying to think of a solution.

"Until, a few months later, a solution literally fell into my lap. I was skimming through the Hogwarts registry for Harry's year, looking at the now-empty space where Harry's name had once resided, when the charm signaling an old Pureblood Heir being added to the list went off. I turned forward two years and was shocked to see a new name pop up – _Black Heir, Unnamed._

"You understand my confusion, of course. Narcissa was now a Malfoy, and their Heir had already been born and was already on the List. Andromeda was now a Tonks, and her daughter was nearly of Hogwarts age herself. Regulus was dead, and Bellatrix had married a Lestrange, not to mention she was in Azkaban.

"And that's when it hit me. There was only one other Black Head of House, and he was also in Azkaban. Sirius Black.

"Now I had quite the problem on my hands. As you know, those who are pregnant are not allowed to receive death sentences, as a lifelong term in Azkaban is considered. If this was to be discovered, his old case would come up. Then people would realize that he'd never had a real trial, and after that it would be discovered that he was innocent all along." – Severus made a choked noise in his throat, and his eyes widened imperceptibly. This was not possible… Dumbledore _couldn't_ have… - "Before, I had been concerned that, if Sirius had raised Harry, he would become as arrogant and cocky as James; and that would _not_ do for a Savior. But now, my concerns were even more horrible. If Sirius were freed, then he would demand custody of Harry. And it would be discovered that Harry was dead; which would cast me in a bad light as I was the one who placed him, and that was unacceptable.

"So I planned. I made sure to keep all human guards away from his cell, and had the Dementors bring him food and pregnancy supplements. All I had to do was wait for him to give birth before sweeping in for a 'visit' and taking the child. I planned to give it to a devoted, deserving Light Side family – perhaps the Flamels – while all the time I pondered and wondered about what to do regarding the Savior situation.

"Of course, I had forgotten about the ten-month male gestation period. Sirius must have just been barely pregnant and developing the necessary organs for pregnancy when he was thrown into Azkaban. Imagine my shock and wonder when Sirius gave birth July 31st, 11:59:59; a full _minute_ after Harry was born and precisely as the Seventh Month Died."

Severus moaned deep in his chest and closed his eyes in agony. Of course… it all made sense now.

"Oh yes, I see you understand now. After that, it all fell into place almost perfectly. I did have a small problem, however. Where as Harry had Light Magic in his blood, from the Potter Line; this new child had Dark Magic from the Black Line. And it was apparent that it would be obvious as soon as the baby displayed metamorphmagus abilities, which is a distinct Dark family trait. It was clear that I couldn't raise this new child as I'd planned to have Harry raised – with loving Muggle relatives and clueless of his heritage. No, this dark child required a much… _different_ approach. In order to make a Dark child into a Light Savior, it needed a more heavy-handed approach.

"So I placed him in the Dursley's supply cupboard under the stairs and altered the family's memories in their sleep. They now believed that they'd been raising 'Harry' for the past year… and that they hated him with all their beings. I made Petunia believe that she hated her sister and her magic, rather than being proud and excited for her like she'd been in reality. I made Vernon have an overwhelming hatred for all things abnormal and 'freak-ish', as well as have a short temper. I didn't have to do much to their son, Dudley, except ensure that he would do anything to please his parents and make them proud. In this case, that involved hating the 'Freak' as much as his parents did.

"After that I performed a rather… questionable ritual that caused Harry's body to grow," – Severus jerked and gasped; that was an incredibly dark and dangerous spell! – "and performed one of the strongest and most intricate glamours that I've ever cast. It made him look like the spitting image of Harry – eyes and hair and all – all the while masking his Dark traits.

"And when the Dursleys woke up the next morning and encountered a child with the body of a toddler with the confused, underdeveloped mind of a two-month old; it only enforced their rather new beliefs that he would be nothing more than an unwanted, feeble-minded burden.

"But he would grow up strong. He would rise up out of the abuse and become the perfect malleable, tough, timid, oblivious, eager-to-please Savior that I needed. I monitored as, year after year, the child performed more and more powerful accidental magics – Apparating at seven years of age Severus! Can you imagine? – knowing that I'd made the right choice… for the Greater Good.

"But then it all went to pot." Dumbledore huffed, and moved behind his desk, looking thoroughly put-out. "The Malfoy's rescheduled their trip to Diagon Alley to go see an Opera, so Harry never got a bad experience with him nor brought up the topic of Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He never approached the Weasleys with instructions for how to get onto the Platform, as he figured it out himself. And he proved to be too timid, too spineless, to react positively to Ronald's Gryffindor brashness. And then… he was sorted into Slytherin. Not at _all_ the appropriate House for the Savior of the Wizarding World.

" _Especially_ with a Head of House as observant and dedicated as _you_ Severus. Immediately, I knew that I had to do some serious damage control, as your devotion to your snakes would not allow me to _guide_ him as I saw fit… as I knew was necessary." At this, Dumbledore began rooting in his drawer as he finished, twinkling over the desktop at the pale, horrified face of Severus.

Those dark eyes only spoke one question, as deafening as though shouted aloud, ' _Why are you telling me this?'_

Dumbledore chuckled before bringing out what he'd been searching for. "Because, Severus, it will never go beyond these walls. Horace Slughorn is much more devoted to me, and will allow me the leeway I need to fix this situation."

With those parting words Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump to the Wizengamot and Leader of the Light, raised the semi-automatic pistol and fired.

And Severus Snape, Potions Master, Head of Slytherin House, late best friend of Lily Potter nee Evans, collapsed to the ground, dead; with a bullet hole between his shocked ebony eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WHOA SHIT! This cliffhanger totally hit me by surprise! Please don't kill me, I'll update soon and explain everything.
> 
> So now you know one of the parents: Sirius Black, the carrier. Whomever can guess the other father deserves a Kudos! There's a *teensy tiny* hint in the first chapter, and the natural color of his hair revealed in the third chapter also gives a clue.
> 
> A/N2: I wanted to say thank you to musicdiva37 for pointing out the grevious error I made with Harry - and now Sirius' kid's - birthdays. It's July 31st, not July 27th as I'd accidentally typed earlier. Whoops! xP It's fixed now...


	6. Coup D'etat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I almost wanted to post this yesterday and say APRIL FOOLS! – but felt that it would cheapen Severus' sacrifice/death/notsomuch.
> 
> Anywho, those of you who are still reading this and didn't abandon me prematurely, I salute you.
> 
> And give you giant snickerdoodle cookies. You deserve them.
> 
> By the way, only one reader/reviewer noticed the Amethyst Amulet; and that was Echo Vanity. Well done dove, and thanks for your hate/love! xD
> 
> Also... I wrote this new story "Those Nights", but no one's read it. I was especially proud of it, but I've only gotten ONE REVIEW! What's with that? Even if you hate, please review (though try to be nice about it). Thanks. xD

Severus gasped and fell to his knees in the alcove where he was hidden as the magic that had kept him invisible faded. Scrabbling desperately at his throat, he quickly took off the amethyst amulet and threw it to the ground, where it became visible again.

None knew it, but it was this special talisman that had made him such an effective spy. As soon as he activated it, it created a perfect copy of himself – more intricate than a golem as it replicated personality, aura, wand, and magic – while placing the original under an untraceable, irremovable invisibility charm.

Also, the Amulet-bearer – or Severus in this instance – could see everything that his clone was doing – through their eyes no less. It was an old Prince heirloom, and had saved his life more times than he cared to remember.

So his shock and horror grew with every word from his once-thought mentor's mouth. And, when Dumbledore withdrew that weapon and _shot_ him, Severus' heart had very nearly stopped. The agony of feeling his head split open even as there was no external wounds was horrendous; and it was only his Slytherin-enforced stoicism that kept him from crying out in pain.

Abruptly, Severus realized that he was now a dead man – literally. And those that the Headmaster would be targeting next would be his Slytherins – who knew everything and could not be left with that knowledge.

Dumbledore wouldn't risk killing all of them, but an obliviate would be just as bad – especially on children whose magic and minds were still growing. Add to that the binding nature of the Oath they had taken – well, his students would be nothing more than Squibs by graduation.

Severus knew that he had very little time, and very little options – but he had to do something. They were _his_ snakes, and he would _not_ allow them to come to harm.

Severus had barely completed the thought before he was bolting down the corridors, disillusionment charm hastily cast.

He had barely cleared the Slytherin common room's door before he waved his wand and initiated a Fiendfyre Lockdown. This ensured that all doors and windows were firmly shut tight, while all Floo connections were forced open for quick escape. After the near-disaster of 1641 when an over-confident Ravenclaw set loose and failed to control the spell, such precautions were necessary.

Now, when he and his students were in such dire need, Severus felt that, were the student still alive, he could have kissed him in that moment.

Only the Heads of Houses had the ability, and Severus knew that Dumbledore wouldn't have removed him from the wards yet, as he was of the assumption his Potions Master was dead.

The door slammed shut behind him, catching the end of his robes and tearing them, but Severus hardly took notice.

The stones of the dungeons began flashing red, and an alarm began blaring so loudly and suddenly that Severus heard the cries of fear and shock from the previously-sleeping Slytherins still ensconced in the antechamber. Severus flicked his wand and conjured a suitcase, spelled it weightless and bottomless, and began shrinking and storing away all of the rare and valuable books that generations of Slytherin Heads had donated to the Common Room. Meanwhile his students made an appearance, older and more powerful at the front of the procession while the youngers remained behind. Blaise was being supported by Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, while a groggy, but blessedly awake Harry was being carried by Justin.

"I want every fifth, sixth, and seventh year paired with a younger student. You are to help them pack all of their possessions and label and shrink their trunks before storing them in this suitcase, before doing your own. Make sure to get everything that you have here, for we will not be coming back. I will answer all of your questions later, but know this – I've sworn to protect every one of you with my life, and I have already done so this night. Now _move!_ "

To their credit, not a single Slytherin hesitated. With remarkable efficiency the older students selected younger ones and followed them to the dormitories. Severus utilized this time to slip through to his personal quarters and retrieve everything of value. All of his books, journals, potions ingredients, and personal effects were shrunken and then levitated back to the common room. Thankfully, by the time he'd returned, nearly all the trunks were stored away in the suitcase. As it was just the first morning of term, there wasn't really that much work to do as hardly anything had been unpacked.

Finally, everything was safely stored away and all of his students waited silently – if a little pale-faced – as their Head of House sealed all of their belongings away in his conjured suitcase.

Picking it up as he dared not shrink it again, Severus turned and addressed his loyal, dedicated, afraid students; trying not to think about how glaringly bare the common room now seemed.

"I have discovered that the Headmaster is not as he seems. He plans to either Obliviate or kill you, and I will _not_ allow that to happen. I'm now taking you to a friend's place, where we shall be safe until I can arrange the necessary portkeys to get to permanent safety. All I ask now is – do you trust me?"

As one, all of them nodded, not saying a word. Severus' heart was warmed to even see little Harry tentatively nod, before burying his face in Justin's chest. Severus gave a small smile of pride before turning to the fireplace and grabbing the Floo-pot. Throwing the whole thing into the fire, he yelled, " _Malfoy Villa, South France, Lucius Malfoy's Personal Floo-Room; **Familia Primoris**_!"

The fire _roared_ with the strength of the connection, and muggle-raise d Harry and Millicent cried out in fear and shock. Trusting Justin and Elizabeth to explain, Severus picked up the fire poker and stabbed it into a hole in the wall, effectively locking the Floo open until he severed the connection.

"Come now, two at a time. Same pairings as before, as quickly as you can. We don't have much time." As they proceeded, Severus counted each student as they went through.

There were twelve students in seventh year: Justin Harkness, Elizabeth McLean, Nero Boot (older brother of Ravenclaw first year Terry Boot), Mary Jones, Andrew Smith, Romulus Hughes, Quinton Westron, Stephen Anderson, Lysander Perkins, Sarah Charleston, Brutus Omar (immigrant from Russia, younger siblings are mixed between Durmstrang and Beauxbatons), and Marcus Flint.

Each were paired with a third year (except for Harkness who was carrying Harry), of which there were eleven: Athena Dyonus (Greek immigrant, only child), Christopher Warrington, Miles Bletchley, Mandy Brockelhurst, Bridget Watson, Peter Vincent, Rachel Graham, Roy Williams, Zachary Orpheus, Mariadoc Baddock, and Rose Apropos (and wasn't _that_ just asking for a bad pun?).

The sixth years were the largest year with _sixteen_. They had Dionysus Urquhart (even Severus wasn't sure how to pronounce that; so he just called him 'Mr. Dionysus'), Terence Higgs, Edward Wilkes, Gertrude Mulciber, Magnus MacDonald (namesake being Magnus "Dent-Head" MacDonald), Matthias Quincy, Elaina Lenora, Leo Jordan (when he had been sorted into Slytherin, he was disowned and his twin, Lee Jordan, obliviated of any and all memory of his brother. Severus guessed that that was why Lee subconsciously gravitated to the Weasley Twins), Markus Vectus, Gwendolyn Corner, Marian Pierson, Vera Thames, Jonathan Tyler, Hugo Mason, Ursula Isis, and Eugene Wiccan.

Their class was so large that they shepherded the remaining first years (except for Harry), the second years, and three random students from the fourth years.

There were six students in second year – Severus' smallest class ever – but they contained quite the collection of oddities. Flora and Hestia Carrow, who were twins in that they were born at the same time, except by different people. Flora is the daughter of Amycus, who was the bearer, while Hesita the daughter of Alecto; thus making them both Carrows and twins in a sense. Then there was Tracy Davis and Daphne Greengrass, who would have been first years this year if the cut for enrollment hadn't been moved back the previous year. As it was, both were the youngest in their year. After that was Mafalda Prewitt, who was the daughter of Molly Weasley's Squib brother, who had been disowned. Remarkably, Mafalda seemed to possess more power and magic than Molly and Arthur Weasley _combined_. Finally, little Wilhelm Farthing, who suffered at an orphanage. However, he was not teased and tormented because of his rather tame accidental magic, but rather for his unique eyes – one sea-blue, the other rich violet.

The first years would have been a rather well rounded class, if not for the fact that almost every one of them were Heirs to Ancient and Powerful bloodlines. Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Theodore Nott, and Harry Potter (or, rather, the boy the world _thought_ was Harry Potter, but was in reality the nine-year-old Heir to the Black Line).

There were eleven children in fourth year, and the budding teenage hormones were liable to drive Severus batshit-crazy ( _and that most certainly was **NOT** Sirius Black's voice cackling hysterically as his choice of words)_. There was Gemma Farley and Lucien Bole, as well as Peregrine Derrick (Severus – who was an avid fan of Lord of the Rings – often had to stop himself from calling the cheeky trickster 'Pippin'; and his best friend Mariadoc 'Merry') and Patrick Vaisey. Then Malcolm Harper and Ophelia Harper – twins _again;_ which was an unfortunate side-effect of pregnancy stimulants that most pureblood families were forced to rely upon – Grant Pritchard, Penelope Rosier, Dunevon Crow, and Alianne Swoop.

It was up to the fifth years – of which there were eight – to take on the remaining eight fourth years. Severus had never realized it before, but his house was perfectly divided so that _every_ younger student had a corresponding older year to help them. Of the fifth year students, it was only Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague who didn't have rather medieval names. There was Alanna Trebond, Raoul Mastiff, Keladry Mindelan, Thom Tirragen, Coram Naxen, and Rispah Wilima.

Between himself and Justin (who carried a shocked, but calmer Harry), they managed to shepherd everyone through the fireplace without incident.

However, as soon as the last pair was through and Justin prepared to step into the grate with Harry, the fire died, the red-flashing walls faded, and the alarm died.

Justin and Severus stared at eachother for an infinite amount of time, both thinking the same thing – _we've been discovered… and we're so screwed._

Not wasting another moment, Severus bopped Justin, Harry, and himself over the heads with his wand, casting a disillusionment charm. He had a brief second to smirk at Harry's shiver at the customary egg-cracked-over-your-head-feeling, before he spelled the suitcase he was still carrying invisible as well.

Then, he opened the door and prepared to make a mad dash for the front gates – Justin with Harry on his heels – when he abruptly almost had a heart attack.

There, staring right at them as though they could see them – which Severus knew was impossible – was the Weasley Twins, both clutching their wands and a ratted piece of parchment in their hands.

"We're coming with you." Both said at the exact same time, which caused indefinable shivers to race down Severus' spine. "We know what's happened, just as we know that Dumbledore just returned from taking **_Severus(2)_** through his Floo, and is now on his way down here. We know that you need to escape, and that you won't be able to without us. You can insult and disparage us, and therefore waste valuable time, or you can follow us. Your choice."

"Why are you doing this? How do you know?" Those were the two most important questions, and if Severus didn't like their answers, he would stun them and make his way out of the castle himself.

"We do this because we are the child's Guardians – his Protectors and Comrades. We know this because we do, because the knowledge has been given to us." And, without another word, they set off down a corridor – in the _opposite_ direction from the main doors.

But, somehow, Severus knew that that way would already be blocked. And something instinctual, something in his very core, told him to trust these fourth year, yet decidedly new Twins. So he followed, hearing Justin's hesitant footsteps behind him. Severus was glad that Harry had the sense to remain silent, that he grasped the gravity of the situation.

Severus furrowed his brow as they neared the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Were they going to get Quirrell? No, that didn't make any sense, the man was a complete buffoon.

However, before he could find out, they turned the corner and nearly ran into Pomona Sprout. Severus' heart leapt into his throat (though he'd firmly deny it later – even under Veritaserum) while Justin and Harry made identical gasps behind him. Thankfully, both were disguised by the Twins' over-dramatic yelping.

"You two scamps, what are you doing out this early in the morning? You'd best not have activated that alarm earlier – though how you would have I have no idea." She cast a weathered, suspicious eye over the two of them (well, the only two that she could see).

"Nothing Madam Sprout! As soon as the door unlocked, we decided to go and investigate just what caused it."

"But when we couldn't figure it out, we decided to start-"

"Checking out this cool prank parchment our older brother Bill-"

"Gave us on our way to the Black Lake."

"But we were so busy reading and walking at the same time-"

"That we got a bit turned around. But we can promise you one thing, Madam Sprout, and that's-"

"That we haven't gotten a chance to have any _Mischief Managed_ recently."

Severus knew that there was something about those two words, in that George had said it differently and his words practically oozed magic. But he didn't now what… yet.

"Hmmm… let me see that parchment, so that I can determine that it's an _innocent_ prank."

"Ummm… sure Professor Sprout. Just be aware, it insults whoever's holding it, so you might not like what you read. But it in _no way_ reflects on what _we_ think about you."

"Uh-uh! No way no how!"

"Hmph, we'll see." Then she took the parchment and barked, _"Reveal Your Secrets_!"

Apparently, it did, for Pomona's face got steadily redder and redder as she read the words appearing on the page. Severus hardly dared to breath, and even the Twins were fidgeting with nervousness. Finally, though, to all their shock, she broke out into uncontrollable laughter.

" _Oh! Oh oh oh… hilarious… haven't read something so funny… in too, too long… Oh oh! Priceless!"_ And she handed the parchment back to the Twins, walking away still laughing and wiping her eyes.

"Wait!" She turned back and looked at Fred, who was the one to have spoken. "What _did_ cause the alarm, Madam Sprout."

But, instead of answering, she just waved her hand and chirped, "False alarm boys, nothing to worry about." Before heading off, whistling, around the corner.

Crisis averted, the Twins practically _ran_ to a statue at the end of the corridor – a one-eyed witch name Griselda the Gruesome. Fred tapped the witch's hump with his wand while George whispered _'Dissendium'_.

Before Severus' shocked eyes, it opened up; revealing a secret tunnel and ladder. Without further ado the Twins scrambled down, followed by Justin with the weak Harry riding piggy-back, and Severus bringing up the rear.

After that, they _ran_. They ran until their lungs burned and their legs ached. The tunnel seemed to go on for eternity, but they knew that they couldn't stop. It was a well-known rumor that Dumbledore knew all of the secret passageways out of the castle; and they couldn't risk the old coot catching up with them.

Finally, they reached the end, and the Twins struggled with the trapdoor above their heads. Severus lent his strength and opened it with a band, before climbing up and hoisting everyone out one-by-one.

Severus looked around, but could see very little through the one small window near the ceiling. "Where are we?" He whispered, pulling out his Amethyst Pendant that he'd stuffed in his pocket and turning it into a portkey with a whispered, _"Portus."_

"Honeydukes cellar. We found it in second year and have been sneaking in here nearly every weekend since."

Severus nodded, pleased. Hogsmeade was one of the few wizarding villages that didn't have anti-portkey and –apparation wards (something about it being so close to Hogwarts and possibly interfering with the castle's wards).

"Excellent. Everyone touch this. It activates in fifteen seconds." He quickly removed the disillusionment charm from himself and his Slytherins so that he could be sure that they had a good grip on the pendant.

The Twins began counting down in tandem.

"Ten."

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"On-"

Just then the cellar door burst open and a burst of green light sped straight at Severus. But it was too late. The portkey activated, the bright green curse shot through the space that the Potions Master had just been occupying, and Albus Dumbledore let out an almighty scream of rage.

Everything was ruined, all of his carefully constructed plans had just crumbled to dust thanks to that thrice-damned Slytherin who had, once again, somehow, managed to do the impossible.

But Severus Snape, Justin Harkness, George and Fred Weasley, and the boy who was no longer obligated to be Harry Potter, couldn't care less. They were free, they were safe, and they were setting out to change the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For all of you who actually read the names, know that I got a lot of them from Harry Potter Wiki, and just as many are completely made up. Some of them are imaginary heirs of notable characters/Death Eaters/Slytherins. A few students' years are switched around, as I couldn't be bothered to try and figure out everyone's exact year. I recently found out that Gemma Farley was supposed to have been the female prefect for Harry's year. Since I'd already given Elizabeth McLean that role, I decided to just randomly made Gemma a fourth year.
> 
> Anywho, hope you approve. If you have any questions feel free to review, just remember I'm a rather firm believer in "Author's Prerogative". 
> 
> Please OWL me and let me know what you think! Even if it's just to sing and dance and give me cookies for not REALLY killing off the coolest Slytherin since Merlin (and honestly, THAT was a shock to read on HPWiki – but I thought that Merlin came BEFORE Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw… I may have been just mistaken, though…)


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